


Heart by Heart

by melancholicpie



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (my very personal reading of what anxiety feels like i mean), Anxiety, Laurent ran away from home... I don't know how to tag that, M/M, OOC, Orphan Laurent, Poor Laurent, Rich Damen, Self depreciation, Stable Boy Laurent au, a complete lack of horse content for a StableBoy!au, a very uncomfortable situation involving Laurent's uncle, an utter and complete mess, but i will put a disclaimer before the chapter, like... rotten rich, mention of infidelity, mentions of Laurent's uncle, oblivious baby, so i'm projecting a lot in this fic and what about it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholicpie/pseuds/melancholicpie
Summary: When Laurent was thirteen he ran away from home; that's how he ended up taking care of the horses on the ranch of the deAkielos family.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Sigh...
> 
> this... is a mess. 
> 
> As per usual: english is not my first language and so this might suck bad. I've been posting this story on Tumblr and I'm still on the process of writing. It's just a silly AU I came up with because I thought it might be a fun universe to explore.  
This won't be long (under 15k i hope) but it will take me a minute for me to finish because of uni and projects and essays and tests and uni just... being uni. As I'm sure most of you know. 
> 
> Enjoy I guess?

Sitting on the edge of the fence, with his feet kicking against the white wood, Laurent no longer had a crush on Damen. Damianos, because Damen was for family and friends and Laurent was neither.

He was the stable boy the deAkielos family was kind enough to take in five years back. He was the orphan Damianos pitied and had kissed that one time under that tree after a warm afternoon racing around the vineyards. And the other times after that. All branded in Laurent’s mind like the horses he took care of were branded with the deAkielos’ emblem.

Laurent couldn’t afford to have a crush on Damianos. Here’s why: first Damianos is rich. Rotten rich. His family owned the best part of Dice, a huge part of Lentos and several properties in Ios and Delpha. Laurent’s the opposite of that and he owns a few pairs of worn-out jeans, a jacket that was once his brother’s and a chest of second-hand books.

Another reason: Damianos is too much for him. In every sense of the expression. Damianos is huge and although Laurent isn’t short, the difference is exorbitant. Damianos is overly kind and has too big of a heart while Laurent is not a great person. Damianos walked around like a young god, a bright piece of sun, that deserved nothing but love and adoration and for guys five years younger than him to fall in love with him. Because that’s what happens when you spend five minutes in Damianos’ presence – you fall in love with him. And Laurent was mousy, to say the least. He stays away and tries not to get in the way of anyone. He sneaks around, finds blind spots to hide and read and read while hiding. They’re opposites.

And last: Damianos is his employer, although Damianos’ father and his brother – hell, even Jokaste – acted much more like Laurent’s bosses than Damianos ever did. Because the truth is Damianos had never acted like he was the boss of Laurent and that’s why at times is so easy to forget that they aren’t friends. Or anything at all. Just employee and employer.

So, Laurent no longer has a crush on Damianos. He set that on stone.

Until Damianos snuck in behind Laurent, poked Laurent on the sides and made him yelp despite himself. Then Damianos laughed at Laurent’s slapping him; that open wide laughter that made his eyes small and watery and his dimple deepen.

Then Damen cupped Laurent’s face and peaked at his lips once, while Laurent all but melted in his hands. Damen deepened the kiss and he tasted like fresh mint and an undertone of wine. Damen wrapped his arms around Laurent’s waist and he felt warm under Laurent’s fingertips. Damen smelled like sunny days and musky cologne and home.

Laurent no longer had a crush on Damen, no.

Laurent was deeply in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was it for the beggining.... i guess
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr ](https://damianosismyking.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/damianosmyking) :)


	2. Part II

Damen was slow to wake up but he was still faster to wake up than Laurent was.

Most of the mornings after the nights they spent together – there were many – Laurent woke up to Damen’s smug face (or maybe just satisfied face, one could never tell the difference), trailing a finger down Laurent’s cheek or a hand buried in Laurent’s hair, massaging his scalp.

Laurent loved those mornings. He loved the feeling of sharing a bed with Damen and part of him even enjoyed waking up to Damen staring at him, although it had been awkward at first.

When they were in his room, in the stables, there was also the smell of fresh coffee (and also the faint smell of horse shit, but it was something easy to block out after years of getting used to). Damen would greet him with a soft smile, a brush of lips, and a hot mug in his hands.

When they were in Damen’s room, in the main house, it was different.  
Laurent had been to the main house a handful of times tops and all of them back then when Egeria was still alive. With Egeria, he had been to the kitchens, the dining room, and the sitting room where he had helped her rearrange her bookshelves.

The first time Laurent entered the house by the main entrance, toe-on-toe with Damen, he choked.

He had to look up and up to see that the ceiling was decorated in carved patterns. Everything was a little too brown and the warm tones of the floor and the furniture merged. It was comfortable, yes, but not creative. The further they went the more Laurent got to see. They reached, at some point, imponent marble steps leading to the upper floors and strong handrails. The deAkielos had paintings and old pictures hanging on walls and delicate sculptures that smooth down part of the overly rustic aura.

Once upon a time, Laurent’s family had had money too, but never like this.  
Damen strolled inside, dragging Laurent along and not sparing any of his housekeepers a side glance. The housekeepers did the same and that alone was a statement of just how often that happened.

Laurent was underdressed between those walls. As the stable boy, he belonged with the horses, on the green field; with the sight from the fence that opened to the vineyard. Laurent’s place was the open and the space and the wild. The main house was scary.

As per usual Damen didn’t seem to care and so Laurent didn’t care either.

Then there was Damen’s room; thrice as big as Laurent’s, almost the size of a small apartment, impeccably decorated and well-kept, screaming Damen no matter where Laurent looked. Trophies and medals of sports he excelled in - riding competitions, wrestling, bow (really?) - exposed everywhere; the door that led to the walk-in closet Laurent somehow always knew Damen had (he seems like the type), a writing desk that belonged in an office, not a personal room, the other door that led to the bathroom. The huge ass windows, giving him an endless field to look at and lose his thoughts in.

Laurent hadn’t had much time to explore like he wanted to. But he liked it. He especially liked the king-size bed. The soft cotton sheets that felt clean and un-itchy against his skin, Damen’s scent in them alongside with the residues of what they’ve been doing the previous night.

There were times that Laurent thought he was dreaming – he came into consciousness to a flash of the sun warming his eyelids and thought he couldn’t be awake. He couldn’t be awake with Damen caressing him so, so gently and murmuring in his ear.

So, Laurent was slow to wake up. He didn’t want to break the spell because he wanted to spend forever in those moments. He couldn’t, he knew. But he wished.

Waking up in the house also meant he had to rush outside before everyone was out of their beds, so he wouldn’t embarrass Damen by showing his family that Damen had been dirtying himself with the stable boy. It was common sense. Damen had not said that once because he was too polite, but Laurent knew better.

Or he thought he knew when he was pulling his shirt over his head at six in the morning and Damen stopped him. “Stay for breakfast,” Damen said sliding his hands under Laurent’s recently dressed t-shirt “Your horses will be fine,” he murmured while leaving sloppy kissed along Laurent’s nape.  
“They’re your horses,” Laurent replied as Damen nuzzled his neck and hummed “And I thought you had breakfast with your family.”

“I do,” Damen’s legs were wrapped firmly around Laurent’s waist.  
Laurent shot his eyebrows up making a point of not frowning as Damen accused him of doing too often. “I -”

“What?” Damen landed his chin on Laurent’s shoulder; it wasn’t a practical position, Laurent couldn’t turn to face him, he couldn’t return any of Damen’s caresses since he couldn’t properly move and what was left for him to do was play with the hairs in Damen’s leg and hear him purr against Laurent’s ear “Don’t you want to meet my family?”

“I’ve met your family, Damianos; I work for them, remember?”

Damen chuckled. “Stop being funny. You know what I mean.”

Laurent didn’t know what Damen meant.

It was one thing to know he was Damen’s current favorite toy, but it was different to be put in the position of being reminded of just that. Did Damen enjoy parading his conquers before his family? Maybe it was to spite Jokaste for choosing Kastor over him, or an act of rebellion against Theomedes who kept, Damen told him, introducing him to the daughters of his friends and trying to induce him into marrying one of them.

Laurent didn’t know which one was worse.

But what else could he do? He was selfish enough to want to be Damen’s current favorite toy. He wanted to have his turn sitting on the main table because when it was all over and Damen got tired of him, all Laurent would have left would be the memories of the time they’ve spent together and he didn’t want to miss his shot to something as stupid as pride.

“Okay,” Laurent said.

“Okay?” Damen gave Laurent space to turn his head. There was a funny, glittery look in Damen’s eyes that made Laurent ache thinking of the day he wouldn’t be the one Damen would direct them to. He pushed the thought aside.

“Okay,” Laurent repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr ](https://damianosismyking.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/damianosmyking) :)


	3. Part III

Theomedes sat at the head of the table, then Kastor at his right and Damen at his left. Jokaste sat beside Kastor; Laurent sat, awkwardly – undressed, he thought – beside Damen and there was another chair at the other end of the table that once had belonged to Egeria. 

He missed her. 

She was the one to give him the stable position when he arrived at the ranch, back when he was thirteen and running. She had been kind and they got along well. Something about her (the way she spoke to him, her hand mussing his hair when they sat together at that white fence, her soft laughter that sounded much like Damen’s) made him miss his mother a great deal. It made him miss his mother even more once Egeria was gone. 

Upon Laurent’s arrival, there was a number of reactions in each face of those in the room; Theomedes appeared to be deeply confused if not offended, Kastor mimed Theomedes’ expression and added a little more shock to it. Jokaste’s eyes went dark before she educated them back to barely-concealed outrage. The housekeepers were communicating among themselves through meaningful glances and twisting brows that Laurent couldn’t decipher just now. 

To be honest, that’s not what Laurent had expected. He had guessed something more subtle – light annoyance covered by cold politeness. Maybe even a little humor because it was so funny that Damen fucked the stable boy and now brought him to eat on the table with the grown-ups and the civilized people. 

With a side-glance, Laurent attested that Damen himself wasn’t all free of tension so he began to worry too. Maybe it was a mistake to assume that being the stable-boy wasn’t too low of a rank to be Damen’s most recent conquer. Maybe they were more disgusted than he had assumed they would be. 

If that was the case, no one said a word. At first. 

Theomedes was the one to break the silence, asking Damen about his job. Damen was more than happy to carry the conversation and tell his father how he was liking to be an associate, how well he was blending in the firm, how the partners seemed to like his work and his style and that he was told that if he kept doing his job right, he would be handed a pro-bono to handle by himself. 

When Jokaste blurted out that Laurent’s presence was not expected nor it was welcomed and he should leave, Laurent wasn’t surprised, but he wasn’t free of hurt either. It escalated quickly with Kastor backing up what Jokaste said and Theomedes backing up Kastor.

Laurent doesn’t even know at what point Damen’s hand found his under the table. The conversation soon became Damen’s relatives questioning Damen’s decision of bringing Laurent to the table and Damen stubbornly talking back at them. 

It went on for a while. Laurent didn’t want to hear so he excused himself, but Damen pinned him down with the weight of his hand. 

Back when Laurent was about ten he saw himself eventually in a position like he was now. His brother, Auguste, was twelve years older than him, which was a lot and it felt like a lot – to Laurent, sometimes, it was like Auguste was his dad. And his real dad, Aleron, was more like an annoying relative who didn’t like Laurent very much. 

There were family dinners and eventual lunchtimes or breakfasts in which Aleron would pic on Laurent for the usual reasons – staying inside too much for instance; not getting along, neither quite trying to, with the neighbors’ kids; a teacher that complained he was too quiet and didn’t like to interact – and Auguste would fiercely defend Laurent’s right to be his own person and do what he liked. 

Laurent had always adored Auguste. They were the best of friends. Nothing could ever have torn them apart. Until something did. 

“This is not acceptable behavior, Damianos,” Theomedes’ livid words brought Laurent back to the present “This is not something to say to your family; and specially not in front of him.”

“And kicking my guest out of my home is entirely acceptable?” Damen was equally angered. 

“He’s not your guest. He’s your fuckboy of the week. This is our family’s -” Kastor was interrupted by the raise of Damen’s voice then. 

“This is my house, left for me by my mother who has now passed away. You are my brother, she is the gold digger I allow to live under my roof and neither of you get a say on who I may or may not invite to my table whenever I please,” the room feel into silence “Are we clear?” 

Theomedes’ look was stern, annoyed, offended. “This is no way to speak to your family, Damianos -”

“Are we clear?” Damen repeated. 

No one said anything after that. Laurent included. His stomach sank so low he didn’t think he could eat, but he had to now, even if just to help Damen make a point. Laurent used to do that for Auguste too, when Auguste won the arguments against Aleron. 

Maybe it was a power game that had been going on and Damen wanted to make sure he had established his advantage. He wasn’t lying – the lands were his and his alone, left for him by Egeria. Most of their wealth was Damianos’ since Egeria was the rich one when she married Theomedes out of convenience – it was a wise arrangement. 

Theomedes came from a renowned family, the deAkielos name was well known, but they didn’t have half the power the Vacileus family had. Her family was loathed, they had successful business all over Joined Kingdoms but specially around Old Akielos; the Vacileus’ descended from royalty, it's the word around. 

Most of everything they had was passed off to Damen – with the exception of the properties in Ios, which were also very profitable, so it wasn’t like the others were poor. Damen was the richest and most powerful man in the room though.

It was a dizzying realization. 

When Auguste was the one to make his point stand, Laurent felt safe – much like he was feeling now. A dangerous feeling, since Damen would discard him soon, but he felt it all the same.

At some point in the dead silence of the room, Damen leaned in to whisper an apology by Laurent’s ear. It startled him. 

When it was all over, Laurent quietly made his way back to where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I've said on the original post tags:  
I'm weak for Damen defying his family for the sake of Laurent; I'm completely aware it's ooc for Damen to speak like this to his father and brother, but bare with me: it's kinda hot.
> 
> Also I love whenever Damen gets to flex on how amazing/powerful he is, so this is... that.


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know where this is going.  
Yes, I am out of control.

It was bound to happen. 

That morning after breakfast Damen had left to work and Laurent was left alone to think. And he thought. And he couldn’t understand. 

At night Damen showed up with flowers, take out and a box of chocolates in his best tacky way. Damen apologized to Laurent profusely, insisted he would understand if Laurent didn’t want to see him for a while and that he shouldn’t have put Laurent in a position that allowed his relatives to attack him. 

Laurent understood even less. 

When Laurent said he wasn’t in the mood for sex, he was sure Damen would leave then, but he asked if they could just spend some time together because he wasn’t in the mood for sex either. They ended up watching whatever was on TV together the whole night and cuddled to sleep. 

For two days Damen and Laurent were closer than they had ever been. They talked a lot, Damen laughed at all of Laurent’s acid jokes, he listened to Laurent rambling about horses and the books he kept rereading; Damen was funny and had a similar sour undertone to his comments although he wasn’t nearly as snarky as Laurent. Laurent had always known Damen was a great listener, but he never thought Damen would spend an entire night awake just talking to Laurent about nothing special, sharing experiences, willingly listening to what was on Laurent’s mind, his take on society and the universe and the meaning of everything. 

Laurent didn’t understand what was happening, but he wasn’t about to ask anything and ruin it all. It was just too good having Damen all for himself. 

And so, two days later Theomedes came down to the stables. 

No, really – it was bound to happen. 

It was after Damen left for work (after spending the second night in a row in Laurent’s room). 

Theomedes was fully clothed in his horsemanship vests, as imponent as he normally was. Theomedes waited outside for Laurent to fetch his horse and bring it to him. It was scary, Laurent wasn’t about to lie to himself. 

Theomedes might fire him, despite what Damen had said to him the last time. He might order Laurent to gather all of his things and disappear before Damen was back. Theomedes could shoo him like a street dog no longer needed. 

Theomedes could do a lot of things. He looked like he would. 

“The stable boy managed to drag my son into bed and poison him against his family,” were Theomedes’ first words when Laurent handed the horse’s reins “For someone this young, I must say I’m impressed. Damianos is not one to be easily swayed. Jokaste herself couldn’t and she has a mind like a snake’s.” 

“I must be worse than a snake then,” Laurent replied, proud of his sure and clear voice despite his shaky internal organs. 

“You must be,” Theomedes mounted his stallion “You know, boy, there is no honor or pride in manipulating a good man in bed. My son can be naïve when dealing with a pretty face, he believes people are genuinely good – much like his mother. I can’t be fooled,” he huffed a laugh, looking down at Laurent “I knew you weren’t good when you somehow convinced Egeria to let you stay. I’ve always known you’d pull something off one way or another – much like you did to take money out of her.” 

Laurent didn’t take Egeria’s money. She had offered, Laurent wanted to say, so he could finish school. She had insisted he’d complete his education, she registered him in school, she made him promise he’d do his best and he’d ask for her help if needed. Egeria did it out of kindness, just like she had done when she insisted she’d put him through college so he could leave the ranch and come back as a guest. Laurent was having a hard time turning down her offers when she fell sick. It was all Egeria. It came from her; Egeria did it because she was too good of a person – much like Damianos is now. Laurent didn’t say any of that. He held Theomedes’ gaze instead. 

“You did a good job there, making him disrespect me in front of Kastor – I would never have thought that’s how you’d choose to act. It’s a shame that you can’t succeed by yourself and you recur to those hideous tactics.” 

Laurent knew better than to tell him to go fuck himself. Laurent knew better than to tell him to choke and die. Laurent said, “I didn’t do any of the things you’re accusing me of, sir,” cooly 

“I should fire you. I should kick you out of here for insubordination. I should warn all the neighborhood not to hire you –” 

“You can’t do that, can you, sir? Damianos said himself, these lands are his, not yours,” Laurent kept his voice cool, knowing his face showed the same lack of emotion “If Damianos wants me out of here, then I’m out. I won’t look back. But I’ll stay here and work for him for as long as he allows me to stay,” Laurent paused “Respectfully, sir.” 

Theomedes snorts. “You sure have a lot of nerve for a nobody,” there was a moment in which the wind, the horse’s breathing and the rustling of the trees around them were too loud and too present; Theomedes never looked more imponent, the expression ‘in a high horse’ never made so much sense, evoking the effect of the literal meaning of the words. Laurent felt small. He hadn’t felt this small in years. Since his parents died. Since he last saw Auguste. Since he last saw his uncle. 

“You’re no good to him, child,” Theomedes’ tone changed. He was less threatening, less imposing; more hurt, disappointed “Damianos has a whole life ahead of him. He’s going places – you’re no good to him. You two aren’t the same level and you’ll slow him down. You’ll turn his life upside down and he’ll let you because he can’t put sense over heart if his life is on stake.” 

With a shake of his head and a half-disgusted look, Theomedes ordered his horse forward and distanced himself quickly. Theomedes soon was nothing but a silhouette at distance. 

Alone, Laurent knew Theomedes was right.


	5. Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hum.... did i mention I have no idea where this is going??? because... yes  
ok.  
sorry about that.
> 
> oh and did u see I came up w an ugly ass name for the fic?? i couldn't think of a single better song to use as a title. I'm: a clown

Damen has a friend.

Damen has lots of friends – he’s the captivating kind that will drag legions of people along with him and follow his lead. Damen is an absolute delight and Laurent got to experience that firsthand.

But there’s one friend. He’s not any friend.

They grew up together. They’ve met before they could walk or talk. It was obvious that they were the closest thing one can get to a relative without the blood relation. They almost share what seems to be one mind, the same values and loyalty. It’s a beauty to wonder.

So… Damen has a friend. Damen stayed with Nikandros that night, when Laurent was awake in bed chewing on Theomedes’ words in mind.

Laurent was no good to Damen.

He knew that.

He thought, though, it wasn’t much of a problem, because he was just the stable boy and Damen was Damen; beautiful, incredible Damen; rich and smart and unbelievably sweet Damen, who would grow tired of him in no time. He would, Laurent knew that for a fact. Didn’t he?

But there was the way Damen had acted so weird during breakfast the other day and he looked at Laurent in a way that Laurent couldn’t quite grasp, and he couldn’t explain, but it made his insides twist, and his heart hammer. Had Damen ever looked at someone else that way? Had he smiled that bright smile in the morning with another person? Had he tangled his fingers in someone else’s hair? Had he kissed their nape, wrapped his legs around their waist? Had he kissed their forehead like that? Had he caressed them like they were fine porcelain?

Laurent wished he knew the answer to that; if it was yes, then Damen was just toying with him, like Laurent always assumed. And it wouldn’t be much of a problem. They’ve being doing this – whatever his is – for six months now and Laurent wouldn’t waste the opportunity to be in Damen’s central attention of a little while longer.

But that would also mean the sickening, aching feeling in his heart at the thought of Damen touching someone the way he touches Laurent had fundament. And although Laurent would rather deny, it made him heavy. Unhappy. Jealous.

If the answer was ‘no’ though, then it was somehow worse. It would mean that Laurent was truly poisoning Damen against his family without even realizing. His uncle had once called Laurent manipulative and evil within his heart – maybe he was right. And that would mean that Theomedes was right and Laurent was in position to turn Damen’s life upside down; Damen would allow because he had too much good in his heart to ever consider the bad Laurent would cause him. Laurent was just the stable boy – he was nobody. He didn’t deserve to be with Damen, and he just wasted six months of Damen’s life.

The ‘no’ also made something flutter inside Laurent’s stomach. The very idea of Damen finding him special was exhilarating. It made his skin burn, his blood rush, his heart stutter. Suddenly, in this scenario, Laurent had some value, he was relevant somehow.

Damen has a friend with whom he’s spending the night. He doesn’t show up to Laurent’s room and Laurent tries not to care as he lay awake in his bed and wonders what he’s going to say when he sees Damen again and announces he intends to leave the ranch.

+++

Laurent loved horses.

He has always loved horses. When he was younger, his family had a small property in Acquitart, with a small lake and a path that led them through the wood; Laurent used to take his pony to race with his brother in between high trees and clear fields. Auguste would always let him win.

When Laurent arrived at the deAkielos’ huge ranch, he hid with the horses.

Laurent’s been wandering for too long – almost five days counting the bus rides. He was tired to his bones, he was scared, he missed Auguste and there was a storm he was trying to escape from. That night, Laurent only needed a place to hide until the rain stopped. He wasn’t planning on getting caught.

The stable’s door was open, and everything was dark so Laurent thought no one would see him there. He found the empty room of supplies and laid down on a blanket on the floor behind stacks of hay, waiting. He stayed awake listening to the horses neighing.

Egeria had come out of nowhere before dawn and caught Laurent petting one of the horses and whispering to it.

That’s what he always did when he was scared or when he felt lonely.

There was something about the way they seem to sense him, to understand him, to comfort him, that made Laurent always feel at home with them. The horses were trust worthy and at times the only ones that shown him any love. Not that Laurent was about to go complaining no one loved him – it was just something he missed sometimes. To be able to count on someone. Be held and soothed.

The horses did that. They always listened, they never judged. They connect in a way Laurent couldn’t connect with anyone. The way that he once connected with his brother.

Egeria gave him his own horse when he turned fifteen, three years before she died. It was neither the most expensive nor the most remarkable horse – but it was his own. When Laurent rode it, it was like the horse was part of him. Even in bad days such as this one, when the rain fell heavy and merciless (like in the day Laurent arrived), when they couldn’t ride and Laurent and the rest of the stable staff had to quiet down the scared horses, Laurent seemed to be able to communicate to him, share what was on his mind and his heart.

Laurent loved horses.

There was a hole in his heart growing bigger by the minute as he thought he’d never get to see them again once he left.


	6. Part VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: There are some weird/inappropriate things that Laurent's uncle does this chapter.  
It can be very disturbing to read, so proceed w caution.  
If you think that that might trigger you, please read the notes at the end for details (if u don't mind spoilers either.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the thing is: i'm depressed and my creativity said 'not today bitch' for two weeks straight  
therefore this chapter sucks  
but i refuse to rewrite for the third time, so have it.  
thank u for the nice comments btw y'all are amazing

Laurent only got used to sleeping alone after his parents died. 

Before that he would fall asleep on the couch in his mother’s arms or in Auguste’s bed with him. Either way he would wake up in his own room and with no recollection of how he ended up there. He’s never had the need – nor he wanted to – learn how to sleep by himself. It was one of his father’s biggest pet peeves, but Auguste always said Laurent shouldn’t pay his father any mind and Laurent really liked to sleep with others by his side. He felt the safest like this. 

When his parents got in the accident though, Laurent didn’t have much of a choice anymore. His brother became too busy to let Laurent cuddle him until he was completely asleep. 

After his parents’ death, there was only one person apart from Auguste that seemed interested in letting Laurent share a bed – and Laurent didn’t like this one. His uncle was just weird about it at first and he made Laurent feel uncomfortable enough that in the days Laurent was left under his care so Auguste could go out and sort things – either at work or so that he could talk to lawyers about the family money – Laurent would lock himself in his room and pretend he didn’t listen when his uncle knocked at the door or tried to push it open. 

There had been this one time when Laurent was worried his uncle might knock the door down and he had to press his pillow over his head until the pounding on the door stopped and his uncle stopped cursing him for keeping the door locked. 

After that there was no more sleeping with anyone. 

Until his uncle filled a lawsuit claiming Auguste wasn’t fit to take care of Laurent and he should have the custody instead. It must’ve been something his uncle lied about - that got him to win Laurent’s provisory custody. Laurent never learned more than just that.

Auguste sat down with him one afternoon, the day before Laurent was supposed to move in with his uncle’s, to tell Laurent he was doing the best he could but “he screwed up and he wasn’t about to lie and say that there was a chance he could reverse the judge's decision.” The look in Auguste’s face was what kept Laurent from crying himself out. ‘Does that mean they’re going to make me go live with uncle for good?’ Laurent asked regardless of what Auguste just told him. 

Auguste's smiled had been sad then, while he ruffled Laurent’s hair and said ‘Probably’. 

The night after that was, to this day, the worst in Laurent’s life. He didn’t unpack when he arrived at his uncle’s house. Laurent's room had no door. He decided he would get away even if that was the last thing he did and that much he was sure of. 

His uncle said he was going to take a shower – and Laurent supposes he did. He walked without clothes from his room all the way to the bathroom, shamelessly crossing Laurent’s room on his way in a nonchalant way as though it wasn’t the single most disgusting thing Laurent has ever seen. 

As soon as Laurent heard the water run, he jumped off his bedroom window. He climbed down the roof using the tiles. 

The only thing Laurent took with him was a backpack full of things he stuffed in it in a hurry, the two hundred bucks he’s been saving for a new bike, the clothes he was wearing since the morning and the jacket Auguste undressed and put on Laurent’s shoulders right before Laurent left their home and got into their uncle’s car. 

What kept Laurent from going back home was the knowledge he’d be putting Auguste in trouble. He just kept running. 

It took almost all of Laurent’s money to get himself bus tickets from Arles to Chasteigne, from Charteigne to Allier, from Allier to Sicyon, from Sicyon to the countryside in Dice. It took the rest of it to find something to eat during those four and a half (nearly five) days on the run. 

Then he was completely alone in this ranch and there was no sleeping with anyone anymore ever. 

Damen was the one to ruin Laurent’s progress. Damen spoiled him with his company in bed. That warm huge body curled up against Laurent’s own and their fingers intertwined. 

Laurent meant to talk to him. To break things up between them, thank him for all the kindness and all the help over the years. Tell him Laurent's saved enough money to start a new life somewhere else – which was partially true, at least. Laurent meant to leave. He did. 

It was planned. 

But Damen showed up in a great mood, all smiles, celebrating he was assigned the pro-bono case he was promised and he was so, so happy that Laurent couldn’t bring himself to spoil it. Besides, it could be their last time and Laurent wanted to spoil that even less. They could talk a day or two later. 

So, when Laurent woke up dead in the night because he felt the sudden empty space in his bed, it was Damen’s fault not Laurent’s. And if it made Laurent’s chest ache more than it rationally should, Damen was to blame too. 

“What are you doing?” Laurent heard himself sleepy and rougher than normal. 

Damen had his back to Laurent, seated on the ground with a small pile of book to his right. “Did I wake you?” 

“Yes,” Laurent hissed. 

Damen chuckled. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

Laurent fought back a smile, a yawn, his blushing and the twist in the pit of his stomach at the endearment. “What are you doing?” he repeated. 

Damen looked over his shoulder to meet Laurent’s gaze. “I needed some water and almost knock these over,” he pointed at the books that had once been on Laurent’s table “Then I just... looked.” 

“You’re going through my stuff.” 

“Yes,” Damen replied, though it wasn’t a question “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see what you like to read and I,” he took a dreadful breath “I found this.” 

Laurent blinked part of the sleepiness away. The small reading lamp that he had on his desk was lit and illuminating faintly the spot where Damen was. Laurent was able to identify the book Damen held – it had a deep scratch on the hard cover and most of its dark blue fainted leaving nothing but a greyish color left. The edges were a little ripped from rubbing and shaking in the backpack Laurent took with him all those years ago and being handled too many times over the course of the very lonely years that followed. 

“What happened to your family?” Damen asked in the quiet. 

Laurent sat up, more awake now than he should be at this hour. The red numbers of the clock showed a three, a two and an eight. Forcing himself to Damen’s side on the carpet, Laurent folded his legs under him; he also forced his words through gritted teeth “My parents died in a car crash when I was twelve years old,” he got the photo album from Damen’s hands and opened it “This is my mom,” he pointed “This is my dad.” 

He shouldn’t be saying. He knew he shouldn’t be saying because he was about to leave. It wasn’t smart to be telling Damen personal things now. 

“You take after your mother,” Damen said. 

“I do,” he continued anyway “I was closer to her – my father was a complicated man. Or I was. These were taken right after I was born, so they’re not looking their best, but I promise, my mother was the most beautiful woman.” 

“I think she looks beautiful in this one. she looks happy.” 

_This one_ was a picture of Hennike breastfeeding a new-born Laurent. She held him protectively, smiling down at his too-tiny frame; her hair sticking up in every direction, tied in a knot on the top of her head. Laurent thought she looked beautiful too. 

“This one,” Laurent turned the page “They took the day I went to kindergarten for the first time. I cried the whole morning, that’s why my face is so red.” 

Damen chuckled and pointed at the picture next to the one Laurent was showing. “And who is this?” 

“This is my brother Auguste.” The picture showed a young boy on the verge of puberty. He had golden hair past his shoulders, marked like he just let it down; he was holding a soccer trophy over his head. His smile was giddy and there was a dirt stain on his cheek that matched the ones in his shorts and shirt. His right knee was bleeding. 

Laurent had no recollection of that day. By the looks of it, Auguste couldn’t be older than thirteen and if that was the case then Laurent was no older than one. But the energy of the picture and the happiness in Auguste’s face made it feel familiar, like Laurent was there and knew exactly how Auguste’s laughter had sounded the moment the photo was taken. 

“Did he die in the accident too?” 

“No,” Laurent’s voice was thicker than before “We just lost touch,” when Damen said nothing at that, Laurent added “I ran away. From... my uncle. And him. From the way life was turning out. And we’ve never spoke again.” 

Damen nodded. “You never told me how you end up here.” 

Laurent really haven’t. He only ever told his story before once, to Egeria when she found him; it had been his device to convince her to let him stay and don’t give his location to the police that was, at that point, looking for him everywhere. It almost didn’t work. Egeria, bless her soul, actually tried to argue with Laurent that at least his brother deserved to know where he ran off to and that Auguste would be sick with worry by now but Laurent was too afraid of what it’d mean to tell Auguste what was happening. 

Thinking back now Laurent realizes his desperation and naivety had kept him from seeing things for what they were; had he contacted Auguste like Egeria suggested, Laurent could’ve testified against his uncle, told everyone about his suspicious behavior and perhaps the very fact that he ran away in the first day in his uncle’s care would’ve been enough to convert the custody back to Auguste. Who knows. 

Later, when he did try to find Auguste again a few years after, Laurent watched him from a distance, holding a woman’s hand and a baby in his arms, getting out of the house that had once been Laurent’s too. Laurent didn't try to approach. It was the last he saw of Auguste. 

“I haven’t,” Laurent finally said; he shut the photo album with a ‘clap’ and placed it back on his table. He guided Damen to the bed and then, after a breath, he started to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: The regent insists in sleep in the same bed as Laurent and is creppy about it when Laurent declines. (paragraphs 4 and 5)  
Then there's the mention Laurent's uncle naked. Nothing happens, he just crosses the door to Laurent's room like that. (paragraph 11)
> 
> It's all brushed over and I don't linger on that too much, but, you know, if that's an issue for you, that's what happens and feel free to read the other parts. I'm sorry in advance if any of that makes anyone feel uncomfortable.


	7. Part VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhh.... I'm sorry about it. In advance.

A day or two later, Damen got weird. 

It was a hard-to-describe type of situation that made Laurent freak a little. His mind was happy to provide him with lots of thoughts regarding just that. 

For one, he probably did something wrong, though he couldn't pinpoint what it was. 

They had that too vulnerable of a conversation about things that led Laurent to the ranch; they detoured that by talking more about family than specifics of Laurent's story. They got back on track and then detoured again - and it went on and off like this for about an hour or two. They overslept. Had lazy morning sex. Damen left late for work, which was less than smart now that he was given his first case. Laurent didn't complain. Laurent was late for work too, but the others could manage the horses just fine without him there. 

Something during that time must've gone wrong, maybe. 

Damen texted Laurent at night to tell him they couldn't hang out because there was a lot he had to study for his case before he met his new client. Laurent's only reply was 'ok'. It was a little too dry. Maybe that made Damen upset? 

For other, Laurent was meaning to leave anyway so if Damen was distant, shouldn't that make things easier? Laurent shouldn’t be so distressed. 

Waking up without Damen wasn't new, and still it made something twist in the pit of Laurent's stomach. 

Not getting any replies for his texts did not help. 

Damen seeming so distant on the other side of the line when Laurent called during lunch was upsetting. Damen hanging up abruptly was even worse. 

It was an ego thing. 

It probably was an ego thing. 

Laurent always had a thing with ego. 

Probably. 

And it was a stupid thing to get worked up over. Laurent didn't have to make it serious. 

On the first day, Laurent focused on his job, since that’s what he was meant to be doing, instead of thinking about his boss. Feeding the horses, changing their water, calling the Vet to come check on them. Three horses were almost late on the vaccines and one needed deworming. Paschal would come in a few days to check on them. Then Laurent and two others took them to walk around, freeing them on the pasture. Gather them back on the stalls. 

After that Laurent himself was off for a long ride around the ranch and farther until he began to worry it would soon be too dark to come back safely. 

On the second day something Laurent surely had not expected was to see Damen with some girl. 

Some girl with long black hair braided over her shoulder. Some girl with a stunning face and huge eyes and freckles, and that strutted. She strutted. Some girl that laughed like she was singing. Some girl that Damen was laughing back to, the way he only ever laughed with a few close people. The way that he laughed when he was with Nikandros, and Kastor and Jokaste (before they cheated). The way that he laughed when he was with Laurent. 

They disappeared in the main house and didn’t reemerge from there. Eventually it got too late and Laurent was too tired to wait up and see when she’d be leaving. 

On the third day, Laurent came up with a speech and then mastered said speech that he would give to Damen and his family - as a whole, not separated parts - thanking them for so many years of kindness. He couldn't bear speaking to Damen privately. Not that Laurent was the crying type, but he might cry anyway. Emotions. Laurent hated them. 

There were the speeches for the horses too - and those were individual. One to each. The biggest and most heart-felt to his own horse. It was the right thing to do. 

Also on the third day, Damen opted for undermining all of Laurent's plans by showing up without previous notice to Laurent's room just before nine, looking serious and stiff like Laurent’s never seen him be. Damen tried for a smile, but it became obvious then and there that this conversation would be better if they didn’t try to pull niceties. 

Straight to the point. Just business and such. 

Laurent couldn't help but feeling small though. And helpless, and wrong, and guilty about something he didn't even know what. He has felt like this before - though the circumstances had been so different then. 

Guilt was a constant in Laurent’s life when he arrived at the ranch. Guilty for escaping. Guilty for not letting Auguste know he was okay. Guilty for accepting all of those nice things that Egeria offered to do for him. Guilty. 

The way Laurent felt guilty then was like how he was feeling guilty now. It was irrational and yet too goddamn real, despite him not having done anything to deserve that. 

"We need to talk," was the first thing Damen said, his voice too deep to suggest anything other than that he wasn't in the mood for jokes. 

Laurent gulped. "We do." 

Damen frowned, as though not expecting that Laurent would say anything. Like Laurent was supposed to stay quiet and mop as Damen broke things up between them. "Go first then," Damen settled on the bed. 

"Okay," Laurent walked to his desk and back, settling beside Damen, close enough that he could reach, but far enough that they would not bump. 

Laurent offered the methodically folded piece of paper to Damen and waited for Damen to take his own conclusions of it. When it took longer than a minute, Laurent decided to verbalize, "I would like to offer you my resignation. I am immensely grateful for all that you and your family have done for me over the course of the years; I can't stress enough how -" 

"What -" Damen interrupted "What is this? What the fuck, Laurent?" Damen held up the letter as though he had been personally offended by it. 

Laurent drew a deep breath. "As I was saying - I am all too thankful for all the kindness you have shown me for so, so long. In my heart I will never forget all of this and I promise I will remain grateful to the day I die, but I feel like I overstayed my welcome. I know it might come as a shock, but right now I want to do more with my life. Something to give me an actual future. I hope you and your family won't take it as an offense, I will talk to Theomedes before I -" 

"Are you shitting me?" Damen's expression grew more outraged the more Laurent spoke; he was already on his feet "That's it? You’re going to leave? You're breaking up with me with a fucking resignation letter and a formal speech?" Damen threw the letter to the ground "A goddamn speech?" 

Laurent shifted, trying to appear unaffected. "I know the nature of our relationship was more intimate and I appreciate the special attention over the past few months. But, yes, I would like to leave." 

Damen blinked, in chock. He had his hands on his hips which should be funny, except it wasn't. Damen lowered his tone, considering something before he said, "Is it because of the breakfast? Because if it is, Laurent, I promise I will never put you in that position again, I wasn't thinking. You don’t have to leave I’ll -" 

"It's not because of the breakfast, Damianos" Laurent interrupted this time "I just want to be something more. To become someone. And I’m well aware of our situation" he gestured between them "and how things couldn't go forward." 

“You can do everything you want. You don’t have to go away. Or you can go away, if you want to not be here anymore. I can help you, with college and finding a place to live wherever you want, just let me -” 

“I have my own money that I saved, thank you. I don’t want your money. I don’t need it.” 

“Laurent -” 

“I would like,” Laurent’s tone was more incisive, firm “To de dismissed. Please.” 

"Holy -" Damen turned his back, running his hands down his face. 

There was silence and Laurent didn't want to think about it, or anything at all. He wanted this conversation to be over, so they could be over, and Laurent could be alone. By Damen's reaction he wasn't thrilled Laurent beat him to breaking up. Was Damen not used to being broken up to? Was this a first for him? No. Laurent knew for a fact this wasn't the case. 

There had been Jokaste before him - and breaking up by cheating on him with his brother must've been a little worse than a letter of resignation. Though the letter shouldn't be too far behind. Laurent just didn't expect Damen to care so much. Maybe that was him not caring so much. Laurent would love it if his head would stop spinning and if Damen said something already. 

"I, of course, fully intend to complete my notice and help you find a suitable person to fill my spot," Laurent said, in the quiet, when Damen still didn’t speak. 

Damen huffed. "That's really nice of you, thank you," he said, voice carried in irony "I should’ve known. God, how am I this stupid?" 

"Huh?" 

Laurent wished Damen would turn around; watching his back was unsettling. 

"Why am I always this stupid?" Damen said, not louder, "Nikandros told me this was going to happen and I - I didn't listen. Why did I not listen?" 

"Are you talking to yourself?" 

Damen just kept rubbing his hands over his face and mumbling. "You could have told me,” Damen’s voice was internalized, like he was half swallowing the words, but at last he was talking to Laurent “If you didn’t want... You could’ve told me before – you could’ve told me sooner.” 

“Told you what, Damianos?” Laurent was still rock-solid on the outside. 

“That you didn’t want things to get serious,” Damen took a sharp breath before finally turning and fixing his eyes on Laurent's “Didn’t want things to go forward. That you wanted us to remain casual.” 

Laurent frowned. "We were casual," They were casual. Weren’t they casual? 

Damen closed his eyes, pained. "I got that part, thanks," Damen leaned against the wall, resting his head on the wood panel. 

More silence. "We were casual," Laurent whispered. 

It did not make any sense. None of it. 

"So," Laurent gulped, words outwards again "You didn't come here to end things between us?" 

Damen smiled like it cost him greatly to do so. After, he shook his head. "No.” 

Well, fuck. 

Laurent was considerably less stable. "What were you here for then?" 

Damen's jaw tensed. He looked to his boots, not Laurent. Laurent almost thought Damen wouldn't say anything until, "I met your brother." 

The words floated before they could sink and once they did, Laurent found out he wouldn't be able to breath any time soon. "You what?" 

"He is my client," Damen explained, "He has lawsuit against your uncle. There are evidences that your uncle interfered on the process of your custody, stole your family's money and properties. They've been fighting in court for years now and Auguste is out of resources to pay the fees and lawyers, so he signed up for the pro-bono." 

Damen, much more in control of himself now, pushed away from the wall and bent to catch the letter he had thrown to the ground "I thought of breaking attorney and client privilege to let you know," his voice was cutting, bitter. Damen raised the letter again, like he's done earlier, but this time he refused to look at Laurent "I'll have the others know you're leaving. We will hire someone to replace you by the end of the week. Don’t worry about the notice, you’re free to go." 

On his way out, Damen was gentle to close the door, leaving Laurent alone with his pounding heart and a full head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I barely reviewed this chapter (though I read it so much) because of how I kept rewriting it.  
In total I have exactly seven versions of this, and all of them are wildly diferent. So...... sorry lol


	8. Part VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> er,,,, 
> 
> i'm so sorry for how long i took to write to this.  
I have no excuses other than the fact that i had no clue were I was going. 
> 
> still got no clue but at least I know how it ends now. huray?

Laurent held his breath before he rang the bell.  


There was the silence. Crickets. Wind. Trees rustling. His own heart.  


Technically, Laurent didn’t have to ring the doorbell.  


Damen had told Laurent that morning that he could just let himself in and wait in his office on the second floor. Laurent thought of arguing that he had no idea where in the house Damen’s office was since his knowledge of the of the house was limited (he’s only ever been to the kitchens, Egeria’s sitting room, crossed the entrance to the living room on his way to Damen’s bedroom and the dining room), but Damen and Laurent were barely speaking so all Laurent said was ‘fine’, which now felt like the dumbest possible alternative.  


Or not, maybe it was for the best and they shouldn’t be talking more than the absolute necessary.  


Laurent rang the bell.  


The front door to the main house never looked bigger and scarier than it looked in this moment, and for a handful of seconds Laurent thought that maybe if he ran fast he’d still be able to escape before someone came to let him inside.  


The doors opened. Laurent was allowed inside.  


The stern housekeeper showed Laurent to the office, on the second floor, just past the painting of an old, angry guy that was hanging above a nice arrange of gardenias in a turquoise Chinese vase. Probably Jokaste’s doing.  


Laurent was handed a glass of something upon accepting when offered, though he didn’t pay attention to the offer in first place. Laurent sipped. The liquor (or it may be whisky) burned all the way down his throat. At least the glass kept his hands busy and that was the only way to keep Laurent from biting his nails. Biting nails would’ve been worse.  


Three days ago, Laurent had a job and a thing going on with Damen that he didn’t know how to name, a room to sleep for as long as he liked, a lot of worries and no news from anyone from his past.  


Then everything turned on its head within a twenty minutes conversation and now Laurent was unemployed, hardly exchanging words with Damen, theoretically had no place to live anymore, twice as many worries as before and the knowledge that Auguste would be coming here to this very room tonight to meet him after almost six years.  


Auguste, whom Laurent had left.  


It was all Damen’s doing, though Laurent couldn’t tell if it was out of consideration or because – as Damen had told him – Laurent could become a leverage to their case. Laurent could testify against their uncle and use his experience as proof. It was something along these lines. Testimony? Damen had explained everything in the phone call, but Laurent wasn’t grasping much information. His head kept wandering to Auguste.  


What was Auguste like nowadays? Had he been looking for Laurent all those years? Did he give up? How would it be to see him again? Maybe he had wrinkles. He was thirty-two, it wasn’t likely that he had wrinkles. And Laurent knew well that Auguste had a family. What was his wife’s name? And the baby? Did they know about Laurent?  


Would Auguste be happy to see Laurent again?  


Auguste never liked it when Laurent bit his nails then. He would be upset if Laurent still bit them now, when they would meet again so many years later, so Laurent was really glad to have a cup in hands.  


There wasn’t much that Laurent could see from the window behind him, given that it was dark outside, and the window opened to grass and nothing else. In any other occasion, Laurent would’ve enjoyed the view of open, clear sky, stars and the waning moon. Now the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see Damen arriving with Auguste was maddening; that and how quiet this room was.  


Why was this room so damn quiet? There wasn’t even a clock ticking.  


Fifteen minutes passed.  


Laurent was close to going downstairs to proceed with that previous plan of evading, when there finally was noise on the hallway. The doorknob turned.  


The comers weren’t much louder than Laurent was. Damen got in first, glimpsing at Laurent and nodding, not a single word was said by him. Following, came the brunette that Laurent had seen around one time before – the pretty, elegant one, with the braid and the freckles – that whispered something to the person right behind her.  


Laurent caught his breath, put his glass down, bit the inside of his cheek and froze so that he wouldn’t start trembling. It was unlikely that Laurent would stop once he started.  


God, it was really him. Tall, so tall. Taller than Laurent remembered. His hair was shoulder-length, just like Laurent envisioned whenever he thought of Auguste. 

Laurent had cut his own hair that very morning; if he hadn’t, they would be matching now. His eyes were the same as Laurent’s. He had expression marks on the corners of his mouth and lightly between his brows. He was so handsome. Oh, so handsome.  


The way Auguste looked at Laurent was eager and possibly the same way Laurent was looking at him. The stillness must’ve lasted around three seconds before Auguste ran and engulfed Laurent into the tightest embrace he’s ever experienced.  


Auguste kept chanting ‘oh my god’ and ‘I can’t believe it’ while running his hands over Laurent’s back, shoulders and nape. Pulling away, pushing Laurent by the shoulders, Auguste took a good look.  


Eyes watering, voice cracking, he said, “It is really you.”  


Laurent trembled, smiling. “It is.”  


“It is,” Auguste repeated.  


This time, when Auguste pulled Laurent back into the hug, Laurent had more room to breathe. Auguste sniffed really close to Laurent’s ear and Laurent squeezed him as tight as he could. It really was him. Auguste even smelled the same as Laurent remembered. They stayed like this forever or for a very short period of time; he couldn’t say.  


When they parted again, Auguste rubbed his thumbs over Laurent’s cheeks as though wiping his tears away, which might’ve been the case. Laurent wasn’t sure he was crying. He was a little too dizzy and a little too confused and so very excited. He was also only now letting himself acknowledge how much he’s missed Auguste over the past few years. It ached. It ached in a way that Laurent didn’t experience in so long. Since he was thirteen.  


Since they parted.  


“You’re so grown up,” Auguste said midst an attempted smile that cracked into a sob “Look at you. You’re so beautiful,” his expression melted some more, lips curling downwards as he cried, “I’m so sorry, Laurent.”  


Laurent shook his head, but the words refused to form themselves in an order that made sense. “No,” was all that Laurent could force out through a thick, unsteady voice.  


“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe,” Auguste continued, his face red and wet and distorted by all the crying and the flood of emotions “I should never have let him take you away. Never.”  


“It wasn’t your fault,” Laurent struggled. 

"I should've packed and ran away with you." 

“You couldn't - I’m not – it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry - I’m sorry.”  


The sight of Laurent’s hands clutching to the fabric covering Auguste’s shoulders, the sound of his own whimpers and having Auguste right there, so very real in front of him, had Laurent feeling childish. As though he didn’t age a day since the day he saw the last of Auguste.  


“Don’t be,” Auguste said, pulling Laurent into another hug “You’re alive. You’re ok. That’s all that matters to me.”  


Over Auguste’s shoulder Laurent caught a glimpse of Damen watching them carefully.  


Damen’s face was filled with something akin sorrow whereas the woman that came with him watched the scene that displayed in front of her with a small smile in her lips. Satisfied. Content, like she played any role at all in their reunion.  


Laurent closed his eyes and decided that he could think of all of that later. He could think of anything and everything later.  


Now he had his brother back – Auguste was right, that was all that mattered.


	9. Part IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so..... sorry for the long wait.  
as it turns out knowing where your story is going does nothing to help u to actually get there? who would've thought?

In the days that followed, Laurent often found himself in a state of confusion and uncertainty he could not shake. A general and constant feeling of being utterly at loss. 

It came from being around Damen, at the main house, where he was now installed. ‘It is the least I can do’ Damen justified Laurent and Auguste having to stay there and not at Laurent’s real room, down at the stables – that wasn’t his room anymore, he had to remind himself. 

It came from not knowing how to properly behave around him because of the feelings he couldn’t name, and the way Damen was polite but distant and looked at Laurent a certain way. 

It came from spotting Damen around the ranch and watching him spin on his heels to walk in the opposite direction whenever he saw Laurent approaching – and doing it himself when Damen didn’t. 

From sitting in that office in the second floor to listen to Damen talk and talk about the case and their uncle and what they’d do next, if they’d settle or go to court, if there was a chance Laurent would have to testify in front of a grand jury and whatnots, all the while Damen would meet Auguste’s eyes but never his. And when he did, when Laurent managed to capture his attention, it was for only the breath of a moment. 

It came from not being sure either Damen hated him so much he could not stand a glimpse of Laurent or if it was something else that pushed him away.

Most of the loss and confusion came from being around Auguste, though.

And the more he was around Auguste, the stronger it got because once the initial shock was over, Auguste was less and less what Laurent remembered him to be. 

Every attempt of apologizing Laurent made was met with a consistent sneak away from the subject to question, instead, if the sun was always this hot around here or if the sky was always this blue. 

Any mention of their old lives, their parents, the last time they saw each other, or the day Laurent disappeared caused Auguste to tense and bring up the lawsuit. Whenever Laurent asked about the wife or the child Auguste left in the city to come to the countryside – still in Dice, to where they moved since Laurent saw them last – earned a quick ‘they’re great’ before Auguste was talking, for the tenth time that day, about a funny-shaped tree or a bush.

“How was it,” Laurent inquired at their third day together. “When I left?” 

“I managed,” Auguste gritted out. “Let's not talk about this.” 

He said that a lot. ‘Let's not talk about this’. ‘Let's not get into that’. ‘Let the past stay in the past’. ‘I managed’. ‘It doesn’t matter’.

It did matter. 

Laurent couldn’t tell if Auguste resent him or if he meant it and there was nothing he was holding against him. He couldn’t tell if Auguste was as pleased to see him as he claimed to be. At times, Laurent caught Auguste watching him speak of horses and grapes and wines like he’s been narrating the most compelling story. Other times, Laurent told him about the school he attended and his job with the horses and Auguste would darken, his eyes would pierce through him and there wasn’t a single expression on his face Laurent could make out. 

He tried to get into that once. 

“Are you mad at me?” he questioned while guiding Auguste through a path in the woods that led to a river with water so clear you could see every fish and rock underneath. He went there with Damen sometimes.

“Never,” Auguste had reassured, so cutting and exasperated Laurent didn’t have the guts to ask again.

For days, Laurent tried not to converge too much on that. 

It was thrilling and terrifying to show Auguste the place he’s been living in for the past five and a half years. The view, no matter where they looked, was dizzying, beautiful and wide. Laurent was so excited to point, at distance, the places he cherished the most; to take Auguste to the white fence where they later sat for hours talking about nothing, bantering and teasing back and forth; to show Auguste to the trees he climbs proficiently and to challenge Auguste to do the same. Ride with him through the Vineyard. Laurent didn’t find it in him to care that he sounded childish pointing and rambling because Auguste looked at him and laughed at his little anecdotes and detailed stories of the ranch.

At the stables, Laurent introduced Auguste to each horse by name, glad Auguste took him seriously as he did so. Laurent introduced Auguste to his own horse last. “Remember when I told you about my brother?” Laurent whispered, “This is him. Why don’t you say hello?”

Laurent turned to find Auguste smiling at him. Fond. Sad. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hear that you kept my brother company when I couldn’t. Thank you so much for that.” He scratched behind its ear. Laurent knew what Auguste meant to say. 

However much Auguste tried to hide, he was unhappy. Like an underlying of helplessness just underneath the surface that he failed to fully conceal. It was there when Laurent described to Auguste about how he escaped and how he ended up with the deAkielos. It was there when Auguste stopped laughing at a joke Laurent told and immediately closed himself off, almost as if reminded of something inexcusable. 

So, in all, Laurent was confused a lot of the time.

A week later, worried by Theomedes’ constant dissatisfied glares in his directions, the muttering under his breath that followed, and the wearyness that came from seeing Damen and never talking to him (unless it was about legal matters), Laurent convinced Auguste to sneak out to spend the night at his old room. It didn’t take much persuading before Auguste was following him down the stone path and humming along as Laurent pointed him the constellations he invented throughout his adolescence. 

They sat for a picnic inside the mostly empty space.

Although Laurent packed most of everything after the break up, Auguste took his time to study the place, poking at shelves and opening boxes. Strangely apprehensive, as if expecting Auguste to give his approval, Laurent watched from the floor, leaning his weight on his arms stretched behind him. 

“It’s great in here,” Auguste said at last. “The smell though?”

“You get used to it.” 

They said nothing for a while, having run out of shallow topics days ago. Auguste, at some point, made a joke about them being too old and too big to share the only bed in the room and Laurent bit his tongue not to say that he knew for a fact someone much bigger than Auguste fit there with him just fine. “Maybe we should go back and spend the night at the house?”

“No,” Laurent said, “I want to stay here. If it makes you feel better, I have an air mattress somewhere, we’ll just have to find it.”

“Don’t be silly.” 

He kept peaking around until, from the box of books, Auguste pulled the photo album. 

Careful to contain his tremble, he opened it slowly. Then, one page at a time, breathing loud and heavy, he went through it. Part of Laurent expected Auguste to smile at the memories, point at funny baby pictures and laugh. Maybe provide context to some of the photos Laurent came up with himself, not knowing anything about the real memory behind. Instead, Auguste’s face twisted into something resembling pain. Even when all Laurent could see was Auguste’s profile, he spotted the downwards twist of his lips.

Auguste excused himself. He had to take a call, he said, although his cellphone was not buzzing. Laurent knew it was best not to follow him, but he did it anyway.

Auguste was far away, beside the fence that encircled the stable area, his hand on the wood to support his weight. By the way his shoulders moved up then down, Laurent wondered whether he was crying or trying to grasp for air. 

He stood pressing a hand to his diaphragm, probably – Laurent was not sure being so far away and Auguste being on his back and it being night already. Auguste tilted his head up them raised his shoulders all the way up to his ears; when he dropped them, he was shaking his head. 

“Auguste?” 

He startled but did not turn. “I’m sorry,” clearing his throat. “You were an adorable baby. I’d forgotten about that.” Auguste sniffed. 

“Is everything –” Laurent stopped. “What is wrong?” 

Auguste shook his head. “I’m fine. I needed – some air, it’s all.”

Laurent waited, for some time. Then some more. Auguste no longer shook his shoulders, taking up a motionless stance instead. His sniffing decreased to a stop and after that there were only the sounds of the night. Where they’d be relaxing any other day, now they only served to amplify how Auguste wasn’t saying anything or looking at Laurent. 

Hesitant, Laurent said, “What was it like? When I ran away.” He thought it was the wrong thing to ask, but it was all that he had on his mind. 

Auguste sighed. “Hard.” Laurent had no reason to hope Auguste would say anything to follow-up. “I can’t even put into words.” 

It was better not to push. Auguste could not make it any clearer that he did not want to discuss this. Laurent bit on his lip and looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry." 

Auguste shook his head again. Laurent waited for it – _ don’t apologize; it’s in the past; it was not your fault _ . “You could have called,” Auguste's voice was barely a breath. “One time. Only once to let me know –” his voice grew thicker. “You could’ve written to me. Anything. I would take _anything _.” 

Laurent’s heart clenched. “I’m – sorry.”

“I mourned you,” Auguste said. “I am. I was. Mourning you. I buried your casket with our parents' because I couldn’t get your – ” A long pause followed that. “I thought he killed you. I thought he’s done something, killed you and hid your body somewhere. He was so _ eager _to get your custody and I didn’t know why. I thought –”

“Auguste.” 

“I looked everywhere, Laurent. I turned every last stone in that town. I... broke in into his house because I thought maybe he was keeping you from talking to me. I beat him up so he’d confess he did something and he wouldn’t. I ended up in prison for a minute for that and I didn’t care because I fucked up and he won and you were gone because of me. I finally stopped looking and someone told me - I should give you a proper burial. For closure. But I couldn’t even get your body back...” 

Auguste stopped when his words became unintelligible. When Laurent reached for his shoulder, Auguste shuddered, and he let go. Apologies weren’t enough and Laurent knew it, so he just stood there and listened as Auguste gasped and mumbled with his face buried in his hand. 

“I’m here,” Laurent said, mindlessly.

Auguste nodded into his hand and after a moment he turned. “You are," he said after a sharp breath.

This time when Laurent reached, Auguste let him. Auguste breathed unevenly. “I should’ve called,” Laurent admitted. 

“You could have,” Auguste almost whimpered. Laurent never comforted anyone before. “Why didn’t you?” 

“I –” _ was scared _ ; _ was being unreasonable _ ; _ Was ashamed _. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“I know.” He looked resigned. 

Laurent gave Auguste’s shoulders a little squeeze. Auguste placed his hand on top of Laurent’s. 

On their way back inside there was nothing Laurent could say that felt right so he said nothing. Auguste went for the photo album the first thing after entering the room and he mentioned, hoarse and with the tease of a smile on his lips, that his son resembles Laurent when Laurent was a baby. He pulled a picture from his wallet for proof. 

Laurent carefully inspected the image and the beaming faces of the woman and child that were Auguste’s family. The family Laurent wasn’t a part of. One that was there for Auguste when all Laurent did was hurt him. 

“What’s his name?” he asked, quietly. 

“Aleron Laurent,” Auguste said. “We call him Ally.” 

_ Two dead people _, Laurent didn’t say. “Tell me about them,” he handed the photo back. 

Auguste deliberated about it while carefully folding and tucking the picture back in the wallet. “Ok,” he said, then went about telling the story of how he met his wife in a support group meeting. 

Laurent made sure to stay quiet and listen, not wanting to miss anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I told someone that 'auguste never stopped looking for laurent'? and i promise i full on planned on going for that road but then I couldn't make it work, so i didn't.  
also... I am sure two chapters postponing a much needed conversation between Laurent and Damen is NOT what anyone wants but I couldn't make THAT work either, so I hope the Sad Auguste Hours™ were enjoyable (to some extent?) because at least we get to see a little of what he went through while Laurent was just being oblivious around rich people.
> 
> Thank u for the patience and I... am coming back soon.


	10. Part X

Sitting on the edge of the fence, with his feet kicking against the white wood, Laurent didn’t know what he was feeling. 

He knew, but he didn’t know. 

He was no longer the stable boy for the deAkielos family. He no longer lived at the ranch. He was still an orphan and there was nothing he could do about this, but somewhere between the main house and the garage and the stables, his brother awaited to take him home to his family that wasn’t his. He would no longer race around the vineyards in warm afternoons or climb trees (much less kiss under them). 

There was something in the bittersweetness that made Laurent’s chest ache. 

Egeria would become even more of a memory, a more distant one, stored away along with his parents and his old house, his old school, and the books he loved dearly in childhood, long forgotten. The open greenness, the soft breeze, the buzz of the summer… they’d be in the past too. Laurent was going home, though home felt much like here and the place he was supposed to miss – and he did – was foreign. 

He always knew anyway; he was never meant to fit anywhere and nowhere was made for him. What difference it made where he lived. There would always be something to miss and something to leave behind. 

Like his mother and father. Like Auguste. Damen and Egeria. The ranch, and Pinocchio, his mare. His room with all his toys, his room with all its smells. Arles and Dice. 

... 

Four days ago, in a charming, luxurious conference room downtown in Dice, at the law firm Damianos works for, Laurent’s uncle signed a settlement. 

The alternative would be going to court and risk time in jail, which he was not willing to do. 

He signed the agreement that gave back all the family money and properties he _ appropriated _(the word the counselor used), an agreement to confess he did intervene with the hearings about Laurent’s custody, an agreement to make sure he would issue an apology, an agreement to compensate for the defamation of Auguste, something Laurent had no knowledge about prior to the moment it was mentioned. 

Auguste sat still through all of it blank-faced. He said nothing for an hour and so Laurent did the same. He did not answer to their uncle’s provocative statements, not even when they were directed at him, and soon they died down. 

The glares he risked to Auguste were never responded and he stopped trying to give them; the glares risked to Damianos were always responded with a curt nod, a twist of the lips or the averting of the eyes and so Laurent looked often. 

In that same luxurious conference room that had to be the fanciest place Laurent has ever been to, he kissed Damianos. 

It was after his uncle and his attorneys left, and the documents were signed, and Auguste excused himself to go to the restroom for a moment. They were close and Laurent asked what else was there for them to do after this, to which Damianos responded, ‘nothing.’ 

Damianos told him they won and he had been smiling then, so Laurent forgot, for the flick of a second, that he couldn’t – he shouldn’t – and he kissed Damianos on the lips, the way he thought of doing every day. The way he hadn’t done in weeks. 

At first, Laurent argued it to himself it was a mindless, giddy reaction to the good news – which he knew was not the truth. Mindless, giddy reactions had nothing to deal with the way he half-ran his way around the big oak table and launched himself in Damianos’ arms. 

At second, he argued that he did it because now he could afford to have a crush on Damianos, with the money of the settlement. He was not wealthy – or at least not as wealthy as Damianos – but he could afford to have more than old clothes, hand-me-down books and second-hand electronics. 

At third he remembered that Damen was still, in spite of riches, too much for him, so Laurent left before any of them could say anything. 

And they didn’t talk about it. 

Laurent didn’t know what he was feeling. Or he did, but there was no way he could put a name to it. 

... 

Laurent said goodbye to the view on his way down to the stables where part of his baggage waited. 

He said goodbye to the vineyards, to the stone path that led to the main house, the dirt path he took to go up the hill with his horse, among thick ivy brushes and wide trees. He whispered goodbye to his favorite hiding spots, to the tire swing that had been there ever since Egeria was little girl. The white fence. 

He would have given his farewell to Theomedes, Kastor and Jokaste as well, but they left to go spend a season in Ios, the housekeeper told him. 

The sun was setting. Laurent delayed enough to be able watch it one final time. By this time tomorrow, he would watch the sunset from his room in Auguste’s home. 

His home. With Auguste and his wife, whose name Laurent kept forgetting. And the kid whose name Laurent could not forget if he tried. 

He crossed the fence that delimited the stable area dreading to get to his things and hold conversation with Auguste, who was more excited than Laurent was able to stomach right now. He thought nothing of the relief that bloomed in his chest when he saw there was no one there. Only the horses and a pile of boxes bigger than Laurent expected it to be. 

Laurent said goodbye to the horses one by one, and lingered when it was Pinocchio’s turn, his forehead glued to her nose, scratching the back of her ear, urging her to understand he was not leaving her on purpose or because he loved her any less than always. 

Had Laurent been more attentive or had his continuous mumble been less intense or sniffs less audible, he perhaps would have noticed that someone approached the stables and witnessed his passionate goodbye to the horse. 

“I’ll take good care of her,” Damianos said to his back and Laurent startled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – She’ll be in good hands, I promise.” 

Laurent runs a mindless hand over the front of his shirt and his jeans to compose. “I know. All of the stable staff is very attentive.” 

Damen smiled meekly, shaking his head in a nearly imperceptible motion. “I will tend to her personally.” 

Damen was just standing there, one shoulder propped to the wooden post in the middle of the stable. His hair was wet and tousled, disheveled by the wind on his way down. He wore sweatpants low on his hips and Laurent was not looking at the way it fit him, cling to him and shaped him everywhere. His t-shirt was tight around his torso and biceps. His lips were red, the way they usually were after he took long, steaming showers, so hot Laurent himself was never able to stay through, or his skin would burn. 

He committed this vision of Damianos to memory. The careless, domestic, natural view of him that Laurent had not appreciated enough in the past. 

“Where is Auguste?” Damen asked. 

Laurent shrugged. “I think he is down in the garage.” 

“Do you need help taking your things to the car?” 

Laurent shook his head. His throat felt too tight to speak, his mind too clouded to think of words, his heart to heavy to bear say what he had been avoiding – the goodbye he was not able to give. 

They simply stood where they were, boring their eyes on each other, lulled by neighs and huffs and hooves. 

“I like what you did with your hair by the way,” Damen said, pointing awkwardly. “It looks nice. Short.” 

“Thank you,” Laurent said, an involuntary hand picking at the short strands that tickled his nape. 

More nothing. Laurent knows what he is avoiding and knows better yet that it is unavoidable, and still he can’t make himself say it. 

Damen is still there if he doesn’t say it. If he stall just a little longer, he is still part of the stable staff, he still lives in the room a few feet down in this same building, he will still see Damen tomorrow. 

He can’t stall. 

“I’m very thankful for all that you…” he was saying. 

Damen picked the same exact moment to say, “Is there no way for…” 

They stopped. Both of them. Eyes on each other, intently. _ Is there no way for what _, Laurent was about to say, when Damen said, “You go first.” 

Laurent drew in a sharp breath. “I’m very thankful for all that you and your family have done for me.” 

Damen’s face fell along his shoulders. For a moment before he caught himself, Damen seemed utterly disappointed by the words that came out Laurent’s mouth and Laurent wanted to tell him it was not the first time something like that happened. 

“You keep saying that” Damen said. 

“It’s the truth.” 

Damen nodded, shifting on his feet. He assumed a more guarded posture, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes were no longer on Laurent too, but on his feet with flip flops. 

Laurent’s mind took him back to the fancy conference room, four days ago, to the way Damen cradled his head, his soft, soft sigh when he melted into the kiss barely a moment before Laurent came back to his senses and pulled away. Laurent had not spent a second to watch the way Damen’s features changed before he was out the door, punching the elevator bottom. 

“You were saying something as well,” Laurent said. 

Once more, Damen nodded. “Is there,” he looked back at Laurent, “No way forward for us?” 

“You mean if I’m going back to your bed?” Laurent said. It is not as cold as he intended it to be, almost playful instead. If he let himself think of it, he sounded hurt, but it was unlikely it was obvious to anyone else. 

Damen took a step forward, unsure what to do with his hands without the post to lean against. For good measure, he took another one, still too far to reach. “I wish,” he started and spared a moment to recalibrate the words, “I wish I had done things differently. That I made it clear how much you mean to me.” 

It was Laurent’s turn to look down at dusty boots, dirt and lost hay. “Damen.” _ Stop _. 

“You were never… to me, you were never just a hook up. I should have told you that.” 

_ You should have _ . _ I wish you did. _ But would that have made any difference? “It wasn’t really… about that.” _ Wasn’t it? _ What would have changed for Laurent if Damen told Laurent he meant more than the fuck of the month? 

“Not exclusively, at least,” he finally added. 

Damen was still walking towards him and if Laurent was a braver man, he would meet him halfway. Laurent was never brave. 

“What was it about then?” Damen said. He paused and his feet vacillated with him. He was more unsure. “Do you… not care? Did you not want to get involved?” 

Laurent’s heart dropped. _ It’s not that _ , he wanted to say, _ how could you ever think that _? When Laurent took too long, Damen said, “I just want to understand,” and it sounded nearly as a plead. 

“You were my boss, Damen,” Laurent said. “We were never the same. There was no way it – we could make it work.” 

Auguste came to mind then. Was he coming back? Where was he? Laurent should be looking for him, taking his boxes down to the garage, loading the truck Damianos was kind enough to rent to make the move easier, getting in the car, listening to Auguste talk about his family and how Laurent was going to love the new town they are living in. 

Laurent should be thinking about that. About going to college, getting to know his brother again; about the bookstore Auguste was sure Laurent was going to love, he huge public library just two blocks down in their neighborhood. About going back to the real world and becoming a citizen of it again, about how it would feel not to be sheltered and hiding any longer. 

But Damen was there with huge, hopeful eyes and Laurent. 

He wanted him. He wanted. He basked in how much Damen still seemed to want him too. 

He wanted Damen to ask him to stay, and to tell him he was stupid for going away. 

“And now?” Damen said. 

“Now what?” Laurent needed him to say it. He did not dare to hope. 

“I know you have a lot on your plate. I don’t want to steal you from your brother, but,” he was finally there, where Laurent could reach him, “We could start over. Fresh,” he said. 

It felt like Laurent had been holding his breath for weeks, and now he could finally breath. 

_ Yes, _he meant to say, but the words stayed inside. 

“You will always be welcome in here,” Damen continued, his thumb caressing Laurent’s cheekbone, his breath brushing softly, tenderly against Laurent’s face, “This ranch is… it can be home, to you. If you want.” 

Laurent gulped through his dry throat and smiled, letting go of pretense. Even if he could, he would not have kept his guard up. Damen’s eyes on him were expectant, eager for Laurent’s reply. 

There was a lot to consider then. What it meant, to start over, what it was that they were together – properly together – and what changed. What remained the same. Where to start when what they had was not new and yet a complete novelty. 

_ What would Egeria think? _ _ What will _ _ Theomedes _ _ say? _

“I’d like that,” Laurent said instead, excitement burning his chest. “I’d like that very much.” 

Leaning in, Damen kissed him and for the first time, Laurent considered that it could work. 

And Laurent knew exactly how to feel about that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who in the hell would have thought I was going to take an entire effying year to finish this shitty thing? surely not me. I never planned for that to happen. So i'm very sorry for every one of you who engaged and where WAITING AND WAITING. 
> 
> It's finally done!! Finally. It was hovering over my head for so long and now it's like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. 
> 
> I'd like to thank each comment and each kudo and each reblog on tumblr. I've read all of your thoughts and all of your tags and the fact that anyone at all even cared for this story in the first place is still wild to me. From the bottom of my heart i don't have enough words to say how thankful I am for everyone who took the time to read and specially for those who read it all and were patient with me <3 
> 
> I hope the ending wasn't too disappointing, I happen to be happy with it, it sounds consistent to me, i hope it does to you too. What will happen to them in the future? Only God knows. Let's hope things are easier for both of them (and Auguste, the poor thing). 
> 
> Again thank you so much for being amazing <3 Byeeee 
> 
> (might fuck around and come back here to properly edit the chapter. I just impulsively wrote it all 1am and then moreless reviewed at work when my boss wasn't looking) 
> 
> Yell at me on [Tumblr ](https://damianosismyking.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/damianosmyking) :)


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